


The Hardest Part

by sevenxhells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenxhells/pseuds/sevenxhells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I decided a long time ago not to be the kind of girl who kisses in bars... nothing good ever comes of it." Pre-curse. Set sometime around Heart of Darkness through The Stable Boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Part

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this almost 6 months ago and I'm not sure what made me abandon it for so long, but I'm glad I finally got back to it so I can share it with you. It's a little different stylistically for me but it's always nice to have a challenge :3 Oh also, this is very loosely based on the song Classy Girls by the Lumineers. Verrryyyy loosely.

He's not surprised when he spots her almost immediately across the dimly lit room. Even amongst the crowd of young patrons mingling together in loud groups or the aging barflies seated alone in dark corners nursing their beers, she is one woman who is impossible to miss.

No, he sees her right away: she's leaning over the bar, one boot hitched up on the brass foot rail, accentuating the curve of her ass, her golden curls falling in waves around her shoulders and down her back. The bartender approaches her and she shakes her head. She seems to say something to him and he nods politely before giving his attention to a couple on the other side.

He examines the room again as he saunters towards her, taking in the uneven wood flooring, the red leather stools, the mirrored panels lined with a hundred bottles of liquor. He slides up facing her and leans casually against the aged bar, decades of abuse and spills etched into the dark wood.

She seems not to notice him, so he grazes her hip with his hand.

"Now what's a beautiful woman like you doing all alone in a place like this?"

He can see the corner of her lip curl upward at the sound of his voice, but she remains unmoved, staring down at her hands.

"I'm meeting someone."

"Oh?" He wonders how long she'll keep it up and uses the back of his knuckle to brush away a lock of hair from her shoulder.

"Mmm." She's toying with a bracelet, black thread with clear shiny beads, and her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip.

Leaning in close, he drops his voice to a low rumble. "Well we wouldn't want to make him jealous, would we?"

She turns to him at last and drops the act immediately with a grimace. "You look damp. Did you walk here?"

August has never been to the Rabbit Hole, but Emma insisted on a change of scenery from their usual meeting place of Granny's and he was more than happy to oblige. The longer he surveys the venue, the more he finds he likes the sense of anonymity it offers which, for a town like Storybrooke, is practically unheard of.

"I needed the fresh air. But then it started to rain and, well..." As if right on cue, a clap of thunder strikes and rattles the bottles behind the bar.

She laughs and flashes him a heart-stopping smile. "I'm glad you made it."

"Me too," he replies with a smirk and runs a hand through his soggy locks. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"I'm afraid you're too late, Mr. Booth," Emma answers and throws him an exaggerated frown. He eyes her suspiciously but the bartender appears before them, deposits two glasses, and fills them with ice and whiskey. She slides a glass in front of him and taps the one in her hand against it in a mock toast before bringing it to her lips, grinning arrogantly at having been able to take him by surprise.

"Not bad." He's genuinely impressed, and takes up the glass, drinking a little more deeply than he normally would and swallows hard. Her body shifts closely against his and she turns to face him.

"I tried," she muses playfully and shrugs in a way that August wants to commit to memory.

"So, how was your day?"

"Well, it just got a lot better, to say the least."

They've been playing this game ever since he came to Storybrooke: the shameless flirting, the not-quite dates, the late nights spent going over Mary Margaret's case file in the diner where Ruby would kindly – and with a wink – allow them to stay well past closing. He knows Emma isn't the type of woman to rush into anything so he lets her play on her own terms, despite everything aching in his body to have her. But tonight he's hopeful that she could be ready to take their relationship a step further.

"And why would that be?" He knows putting her on the spot will make her uncomfortable, but he can't resist watching her squirm a bit.

Instead, she surprises him by moving impossibly close and looking directly up into his eyes, resting her hand a millimeter from his. "Do I really have to say?"

He's not sure if it's the lack of frivolity in her voice, or warmth of the alcohol spreading through his body, or being this close, but he finds himself leaning toward her. She startles him by turning her head away suddenly.

"I'm sorry…" His face burns with embarrassment. How could he have possibly misread her this terribly?

"No, it's not you. It's just… I decided a long time ago not to be the kind of girl who kisses in bars."

"And why's that?" He requests, feeling a bit like he'd just been punched.

She doesn't answer right away; instead finishes her drink and motions to the bartender for two more.

"Because nothing good ever comes of it," she says indignantly after taking a fresh sip.

August knows better than to protest, and truthfully, he finds it hard not to be mesmerized by her. So he watches as she rolls the glass between her fingers, letting the condensation collect on her hands and drip to the floor.

A loud group gathers around the jukebox and the music changes to something familiar but entirely too loud, shaking August from the trance she's put him in. He decides to make the best of whatever unease their near-kiss caused and downs the rest of his whiskey, then snatches Emma's glass and places it next to his on the bar.

"Well I know you can't turn down a dance." He takes her by the hand and leads her to the center of the dance floor, weaving between partners and through a group of too-drunk girls giggling and sloshing their margaritas on the parquet.

He pulls her close and grasps her hand firmly, wraps his free arm around her waist. There's no hesitation on her part and she responds quickly by bringing her hand up to his shoulder.

The song playing is entirely too fast for slow dancing, but they sway a-rhythmically to the music anyway, ignoring the peculiar glances from people around them as each song plays out and a new one begins.

"So for real this time, tell me about your day." He's more comfortable already and can sense Emma feels the same.

"Well," she starts with a sigh, "I had to deal with Regina's bullshit all day, claiming that I'm a bad influence on Henry. Like that's anything new. And Mr. Gold doesn't seem to be doing anything at all to help Mary Margaret. Some great lawyer he turned out to be… but of course there's no one else even willing to touch the case. I mean, it's taken everything in my power not to have the whole thing turned over to the state like Regina wants. Luckily for us, the judge seems to be as sick of her little power plays as everyone else." She lets out another long sigh and looks up. "What? Why are you smiling?"

"No real reason, except you're nearly crushing my hand."

"Oh," she replies sheepishly and he feels her relax in his arms.

"It's okay. You needed to get it out."

Thunder crashes around them again and the group of girls dissolves while several other people decide loudly to play a game of pool or head out. Soon Emma and August are the only two left under the flickering lights.

She places her head on his chest, breathing in deeply, and detaches her hand from his, moving it up around his neck. "Thank you."

He pulls her waist closer, resting his cheek on the crown of her head and runs his free hand through her hair. As if sensing the shift of atmosphere, the music slows and they sway together, wordlessly.

She fits comfortably against his body, which had been apparent to both of them since their first ride together on his bike and every ride since then. This is in another category entirely, however, and August suddenly recalls the first time they'd held each other in this way. The night after being forced to press murder charges against Mary Margaret, she came to his room shaking, unable to speak. He held her until she was able to breath evenly and whispered to her that it would be okay, that they would figure it all out together. And then she left just as suddenly as she'd arrived.

Another crack of thunder causes her to shiver in his arms and she pulls away slightly, looking up at him with the same glossy gaze from earlier. Her cheeks are flushed from the effects of the whiskey and August finds he can't resist, so he dips his head to align his lips with hers.

She looks down with an embarrassed grin just before he makes contact.

"Right, no kissing in bars," August breathes heavily, entirely intoxicated by the effect she's having on him. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"I'll get us another drink."

Before he can protest, she pulls away and begins striding toward the bar. He dumbly finds a table nearby and leans against it, in need of support. It's possible he's been too forward tonight, but he can't mistake her body language for anything other than want…

As he watches her lean over the bar again, he feels guilty for thinking Emma ever had intentions to advance their relationship with this little detour of an evening. It was, more than likely, just a way for her to blow off some steam, to spend some time away with someone who wasn't actively working against her.

She saunters back to the table and hands him a glass, taking a sip from her own.

"Look, Emma, if I'm moving too fast—"

"You're not," she interrupts, making eye contact briefly before flicking them around the room.

August stares at her bewildered; it's the first time she's acknowledged what's been going on between them in any capacity aside from insisting that their first trip to the well was a date. Between struggling to get her son back and trial looming over the entire town, she'd been stretched to her limits emotionally, and it seemed to him that adding in a complication like a relationship would be more than she can handle.

Until now.

They finish their drinks in silence and August watches Emma shift anxiously, still avoiding eye contact. The last thing he wants to do is make her uncomfortable, so he attempts to put her at ease by asking for another dance.

With a smile she takes his hand without hesitation and they resume their position. Emma wraps her arms around his neck and stares up at him. Instead of making the mistake of trying to kiss her a third time, despite all apparent indications that he should, August simply rests his forehead against hers and sways with her to music that doesn't match their moods.

"Okay," she utters at last.

"Okay, what?" He keeps his forehead pressed to hers and his eyes shut. Knowing what she wants, his heart begins to pound but he's determined to let her make all the moves.

"Let's get out of here."

The moment they're out of the building, her lips are on his. The kiss is smoldering and desperate, completely taking August by surprise. She doesn't seem to care that the rain is coming down heavily and pulls herself against him with her fists balled in the collar of his jacket. They stumble toward her car where they break apart ruefully as they enter their respective sides, then immediately reconnect once the doors are slammed shut.

After several more moments of frenzied kisses, dueling tongues, and an awkward clashing of teeth Emma manages to pull away, breathing heavily. "Do you want to come to my place?"

"Only if you want me there," he replies breathlessly.

"I do. I want you." She presses a hard kiss to his lips and he feels her smile against his mouth before she fumbles for her keys with trembling hands.

"You're ok to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"If you say so, Sheriff."

"Ok, asshole, you can walk if you want."

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply, nipping at her bottom lip as he pulls back.

"Damn you," she curses against his mouth and takes a moment to gain her bearings before starting the engine and throwing the transmission into reverse.

They race from the car to the stairwell of the building, and August presses her against the wall when they're safe from the rain. He uses his thumb to brush away soaked strands of hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks before devouring her mouth with his.

Her hands are everywhere: his hair, his neck, sliding down the back of his jacket and over the swell of his ass to grip his flesh. August moans lightly into her mouth and snatches her wrists, pinning them against the wall on either side of her head. He knows she can feel him through their clothes as she bucks her hips against him and he nips at her jaw.

"Take me upstairs," she breathes against his ear and it's all he needs to take off up the steps, pulling her roughly after him. She laughs along the way and by the time they reach her door, she's nearly out of breath.

"Can't you unlock it any faster?" August teases, standing close behind her as she fumbles with her keys again. He pulls her hair aside and lavishes the exposed skin of her neck with his tongue and teeth.

"Maybe I could concentrate for two seconds if you weren't all over me."

"Don't pretend you don't like it."

The door swings open and their jackets are quickly discarded before Emma spins on her toes, taking his hand. It's her turn to lead, and she walks him slowly to the couch, pushing him down before settling onto his lap. She leans down to graze his lips and he angles his head up for more, but she keeps just out of reach, damp hair falling around her face. Her fingers sweep lightly across the stubble of his jaw and cheek, feathering over his mouth, to which August responds with a soft kiss.

"What are you doing?"

The storm clouds have broken momentarily, and moonlight spills in through the loft windows, rendering Emma's face nearly colorless save for the flushed pink of her lips.

August can see she's nervous. He knows she's endured a lifetime of profound loss and pain rendering her calloused and cold, and his heart aches knowing that his actions as a boy, and then as a young man played a significant role in that. All he can hope for now is the chance to show her that she was always loved and wanted, and still is.

"Just making sure you're real."

"Of course I'm real." The secret irony of his statement doesn't escape him, and he smiles up at her. "I'm real, Emma."

Another cloud passes over the moon, blocking the only light source in the tiny loft. His eyes strain to read the shadowed features of her face set against an even darker background.

In a way, this is how he's always seen Emma throughout the course of his life… a dark figure, just barely out of focus from the past. Of course, that all changed the moment his eyes fell on her in the otherwise deserted road, his memory set ablaze with light and color, igniting every fiber of his being. It was as if he could see and hear and feel all for the very first time. And being with her now, seeing the distrust that she still so rightfully clings to, he finally feels his sense of purpose return, and the years he'd spent frittering away dissolve into nothingness until all that remains is Emma.

She grips his face and descends urgently onto his lips and August takes the opportunity to explore her body. Hands roam across her thighs and up her back, and then slide under her arms to knead her breasts through the heavy knit. Emma whimpers against his mouth and rolls her hips against his but then pulls back abruptly.

"What's wrong?" August drops his hands to her thighs.

"Would you hate me if asked if we could just… talk tonight?" Her voice is small, faint. "I don't want you to think I'm trying to lead you on… but this can't to turn into just another one-nighter. I can't do that anymore. I can't do that with you."

"Emma..."

"I mean, it's not that I don't want to… you know… I do. I just… I really like you. I like you so much more than I can process right now and I don't want to fuck this up like everything else…"

"Emma, listen—"

"… and it would kill me if you weren't there in the morning. I haven't felt that way about anyone in a really long time and it's scaring the absolute shit out of me."

He waits a beat, watching the dark pools of her eyes. "Is that all?"

"Yeah. Yeah that's all," Emma sighs and looks down dejectedly but continues on, fingering the fabric of his shirt. "Look, I get it if you want to leave, but I really… really hope you'll stay."

She starts shifting her away, but August grips her by the waist and holds her against his lap. "Emma, I'm not leaving."

"You're not?" The enlarged, watery saucers of her eyes stare down at him in disbelief.

"I'd never leave you."

Again.

"I'm such a mess…" Her head thumps against his chest and she snakes her arms around his middle, gripping him tight.

August lets out a soft laugh and rubs circles into her back. "You're not a mess. In fact, you've held together quite well considering the circumstances."

She sighs, and it's apparent that exhaustion is slowly overtaking her. He listens as her breathing slows, and though he wishes he could stay wrapped in her arms forever, he adjusts their limbs and stands, scooping her up.

"Ok, let's get you to bed."

"I can get there myself, you know," she replies, though she nuzzles into his chest and hugs his neck.

"I know."

After she's laid down, her boots removed, Emma rests her head on his chest and August does his best to stay awake until he knows she's asleep. The fingers moving through his hair cease and he lets out a breath, whispers I love you and I'll never leave you again. It's not much of a start, but for what he can manage, it's certainly enough for her right now.


End file.
